If I Die Before You Wake
by Canadian Hogan's Fan
Summary: The minutes tick by as Genevieve DuBois waits for her husband's return, and receives a caller no wife of a French underground member wants on her doorstep. Sequel to Days of Bombs and Roses.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Thanks Marie for getting me thinking about the sequel, which takes place two years later.

Maurice, where are you? Genevieve thought, watching the clock's hands creep across its face._ You told me you'd be home by midnight. It's now 1:30 and there's still no sign of you._

She shifted in the rocking chair, seeking a soft part of the cushion. It was Maurice's favourite chair to sit in when he was home. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes and inhaled the lingering smell of his home-rolled cigarettes and handmade soap, she could conjure such a clear picture of him, she'd swear he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"Maman?"

Genevieve opened her eyes and turned to her curly-haired son. "Lucien," she murmured, stifling a yawn. "What are you doing out of bed?"

He rubbed his eyes, which were the same shade of brown as his father's. "I can't sleep. I had a bad dream."

She patted the chair's arm. "Poor darling. Dreams can be so frightful. Come sit with Maman and she'll make it better."

He fiddled with his worn pajamas. "Can I sit in your lap?"

She nodded. "Only if you're careful."

His face brightened as he eased into the chair, ensuring he avoided her eight-month pregnant belly. "Tell me about Papa."

She laughed. "You remember him well enough. You saw him not too long ago."

"I know, but I like to hear you talk about him."

Genevieve glanced at the clock again, fighting a nauseous feeling more intense than any morning sickness she'd ever experienced. "Well, your papa's a brave, strong, handsome man. He has a wonderful smile and a big heart. I remember once he found a boy on the street begging for money to buy some bread. Not only did your father buy the bread, he bought a week's worth of cheese and milk to go with it." She stroked her son's forehead. "I'll never forget how that child thanked him a thousand times when he gave him that grocer's bag. I told your father he must be an angel sent from heaven. He shrugged and said, 'I hate to see children suffer. They should always smile because it makes the world a beautiful place.' That's when I really fell in love with him.

"Of course, I wasn't the first woman to feel that way. All the girls loved his good looks and charm. He always had seven or eight of them clamoring around him, hanging onto his every word like he was General de Gaulle. He never seemed to notice me until one day, when your grand-père asked me to bring them some wine while they talked 'business.' I spilled your father's glass in his lap. He was very chivalrous, taking the blame for my clumsiness, but every day after that, he called me Petite Claret, after the wine they'd been drinking. We started to talk about what we wanted from our lives and the more we talked, the less I saw of the other girls. Then, one day, he asked me to marry him." Genevieve paused when her son let off a soft snore. _How wonderful it is to be so young. I haven't slept that soundly since I was a little girl._

Balancing herself with one arm and holding Lucien with the other, she pulled herself out of the chair and carried him to bed. _I must have tired the poor boy out, talking about Maurice so much. _Her face fell as she glanced at the clock again. _It's nearly two now. Where is he? _

She flipped on a dim light when she entered Lucien's room and waddled to his bed. Try not to worry so much, you fool, she thought as she laid the boy down. _You haven't seen each other in more than half a year; what do another few minutes matter? He probably had to take another way home to avoid the Gestapo. Or maybe he stopped to visit Little Boy Blue, Cock Robin or one of our other friends._

_As long as it's not Abrielle. _

She stretched her tired back, stifling a laugh. _Ridiculous! Why would he visit her? He knows I can't stand her—the way she throws herself at him, like he was still a bachelor. He wouldn't do that to me, no matter how much of a Romeo he used to be. _

_Or would he?_

"Stop letting your imagination run away with you," she scolded herself. "If you believe that, you might as well believe he's in Berlin dining with the Fuehrer himself."

Genevieve froze when sharp pounding sounded on her door. _That's not an underground code._ She turned off the light and hurried to answer it. Her blood ran cold when she saw the Gestapo agent on the other side. _If a man's eyes are the window to his soul, his have nothing but evil to show the world. _

"Guten Abend, Madame DuBois." His voice was harder than his gaze. "I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but may I speak to your husband?"

A small gasp almost escaped her lips. "I'm sorry, he's not here."

The German's eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his brown fedora. "How odd. He knows there's a curfew on, doesn't he?"

Her mind raced. "He does, but he fears the wrath of a wife with pregnancy cravings more than any punishment the authorities could give him."

He stared at her stomach as if it was an infected boil in need of lancing. "It's late. No stores that sell food are open now."

"He went to a very understanding friend's home to get some radishes, if it's any of your business."

He nodded. "You sure that's all he's doing?"

Another wave of nausea washed over Genevieve. "Listen, Herr…."

"Hempel."

"I don't know what you're driving at. My husband may have broken the rules, but I assure you, he did it for a good cause."

He grinned wickedly. "I'm sure he thinks he is. You see Madame, earlier this evening, the French Underground stole some papers from Carlingue* headquarters. My men caught most of those responsible in the act and shot them. There was one man, however, who escaped. That man matches the description we have of your husband."

Genevieve closed her eyes against an image of Maurice dodging bullets as he ran through the streets. "Surely you're mistaken. He would never do something so wicked. We're loyal to the Third Reich."

Hempel lowered his voice to a menacing tone. "I assure you, Madame DuBois, there's no mistake. We've been watching your husband for quite some time and we believe he's been involved in several activities meant to undermine German authority in France. Now, I'll give you one more chance before I take more drastic measures. Where is your husband?"

A tear stung Genevieve's face. Oh, Maurice, I had an awful feeling something like this would happen the last time you left. Please God, let him be all right.

He reached for the gun. "Well? Answer me!" he hissed.

Her throat caught as she tried to speak. _What if he's bleeding to death in some alley with only the rats to keep him company? Oh, my poor Maurice, all alone, cold and frightened. That's no way for even the lowest form of life to die._

His poem for Lucien sprung to her mind. _If I should die before you wake, please pray the Lord for my own sake._

Why did you say those horrible words?she thought. _Surely, you knew you were tempting fate with such thoughts. _

"Chérie?" Genevieve looked up and forced herself to remain calm as her husband approached, brushing dirt from his leather jacket. "I asked Louis and Marie if they had any radishes, but they said they were fresh out. I'm afraid your cravings will have to go unsatisfied tonight." He frowned at Hempel. "What do you want?"

Hempel glared at DuBois. "What do you know about the raid on Carlingue headquarters tonight?"

DuBois shook his head. "Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

Hempel grabbed Genevieve and pressed his pistol to her neck. "One more lie and she dies. Now, where were you tonight?"

Genevieve gulped, wondering if they could hear her heart pounding. _Mon Dieu, don't let it end this way. Not with the baby still in my womb._

Maurice's face mirrored her thoughts. "I was looking for radishes for my wife, I swear," he pleaded.

"Where is Little Boy Blue?"

DuBois shook his head. "I don't know any Little Boy Blue other than the one in my son's story books."

I'm sorry for all those horrible thoughts I had,Maurice_, _Genevieve thought_. I never should've doubted you. Mon Dieu, I'm sorry for every sin I've committed and for any pain I've caused my fellow Frenchmen. Please, don't let him pull the trigger._

"Where are the plans you stole tonight?"

DuBois shook his head harder. "I have no papers other than my own. I'm not guilty of stealing whatever you think I have."

"Who is your leader?"

"The Fuehrer. I swear on my life and my wife's that he's the only one I'm loyal to." He fell to his knees. "Please, I'll do anything you ask. Just don't kill her."

Hempel cocked the trigger. "Empty your pockets, slowly."

Genevieve marveled at how calmly her husband obeyed the order. _I would be shaking and throwing myself at his feet, begging for mercy it if he were pointing this gun at you instead of me._

"Remove your jacket."

DuBois complied and folded his arms as the Gestapo agent removed the pistol

from Genevieve's neck and inspected the clothing. "Monsieur!" he shouted when Hempel tore out the lining. "Please be careful! My wife gave me that for Christmas."

The German gave a frustrated grunt and threw the jacket back at DuBois. "You know, I could shoot you for treason right now and no one would question my judgment. But I'm not going to do that. It would be infinitely more satisfying to catch you in the act." He shoved Genevieve aside. "And when I do, I'll take great pleasure in watching you beg for you and your family's filthy French lives. Now, get out of my sight."

DuBois led Genevieve inside as Hempel stormed away. "Are you all right, chérie?" he whispered once he closed the door. "Did he hurt you?" He stared at her belly. "Mon Dieu, you're going to have another baby? Why didn't you send word? And what are you doing up so late in your condition?" He hugged her tightly. "Oh, Petite Claret, I'm sorry I put you in danger. I ran into Blue on my way home and he asked me if I'd help with that raid. Everything was going according to plan when all Hell broke loose. I had to run all over France to get the plans to our contact without getting caught. And when I heard you talking to that dirty Bosche, I was so afraid…."

Genevieve shook her head and kissed him hard. "It doesn't matter anymore. Just hold me."

*French Gestapo.


	2. Chapter 2

One week later

"Here, mon Colonel," LeBeau said, handing Hogan a chipped mug once he descended into one of Stalag 13's many tunnels. "I just made a fresh pot of coffee and I thought you could use some."

Hogan inhaled the brew's weak scent as steam curled around his face. "Thanks." He sighed when he checked his watch. "They're late," he muttered. 

Kinch tapped a pencil against a clipboard as his commander paced past his place at the radio for the hundredth time. "Maybe they got held up in traffic. Or maybe they stopped in town for a beer and found a pretty fraulein."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine! While we're on the subject of maybes, maybe they got picked up by a German patrol. Or they got themselves shot."

"Give them a chance, Colonel," LeBeau replied, concern lacing his tone. "They could be here any minute."

"Give the man a cigar, Carter, he's a regular fortune teller!"

Hogan exhaled in relief as Newkirk and Carter appeared around the corner, dirty, but none the worse for wear. "How did it go?"

Newkirk beamed. "Oh, sir, it was ruddy brilliant! That train never had a chance."

Carter shrugged. "It wasn't one of my best. Personally, I like a little more kaboom in my explosions."

The Colonel allowed himself a small smile and started to congratulate them when faint murmurs echoed from further down the tunnel. He frowned. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Carter asked.

"Shush," Kinch murmured. "I heard it too."

"Get behind me!" Hogan hissed, pressing himself against a damp earth wall as the shadows opposite him grew larger. "Newkirk?"

The Englishman stepped forward. "Right, sir." He aimed.

And faced a familiar Frenchman carrying a sleeping boy.

Hogan's tense shoulders eased as Newkirk lowered his gun. "For crying out loud, DuBois, how many times do I have to tell you to knock first? Sneaking around down here is a good way to get yourself killed. And what are you doing with that kid?"

"He's my son, Lucien," DuBois whispered. "Please speak softly. He just fell asleep and I'd like him to stay that way."

Hogan groaned, but complied. "What is he doing here?"

"I'll explain everything in a minute." He turned to all the men, now appearing from behind their commander. "I have an announcement to make. I'm leaving my work with the underground here."

A collective gasp filled the tunnel.

"How can you do that?" LeBeau sputtered. "You're turning your back on France, your countrymen!"

DuBois raised his hands as his short compatriot unleashed a string of profanities in their native tongue. "Would you please let me explain? I've come to ask for your help." He took a deep breath. "A week ago, a Gestapo agent named Hempel came to my home in Paris, looking for me because I stole some papers from French Gestapo headquarters. He questioned my wife about my whereabouts and, when I came home, he threatened to kill her and my son if I didn't confess. God knows what I would've done if he had." Hogan almost flinched at the torment in DuBois's eyes. "We've been running ever since that night."

"Has the underground given you its blessing to leave?" Hogan asked.

DuBois looked at Hogan. "Yes, but I'm not leaving for good. I've made arrangements to go to Switzerland. Maybe I can be of some use to the Allies there, since my work's been discovered here. The trouble is my family. I want them to go somewhere where they'll be safe from the Bosch." He fought to keep his tone even. "Colonel, I wouldn't ask if it weren't important, but can you help us?"

Hogan rubbed his chin. "You want us to send them to London?"

"Absolutely not!" DuBois choked. "They'd be no safer there than in France. You know how the Germans bomb England almost every night. I was hoping you could send them to America, or even Canada. I've heard there's a place there that's made almost entirely of Frenchmen."

Hogan folded his arms. "C'mon, DuBois, be sensible. Our connections don't go quite that far. Besides, even if we could get them to the States or Canada, they'd be taking an awful risk crossing the Atlantic, considering how many U-boats are out there, waiting to pick off ships. The trip to England's a lot shorter, so there's less of a chance they'll be used for target practice."

DuBois rocked Lucien back and forth when he stirred. "But where can they go in England that's safe from attack?"

Newkirk leaned toward Hogan. "Pardon me, sir, but I might have the answer to this sticky wicket. Me little sister Mavis just wrote about me Uncle Ted and Auntie Madge, who live on a farm in Goathurst. Auntie's rheumatism is something awful now. She can't manage the house and her farm chores anymore. I'm sure they'd take in Madame DuBois and the little lad if they wouldn't mind helping her out. And, they say it's safer there than in London."

DuBois turned to the shadows. "What do you think, chérie? This might be your best chance."

"I told you, Maurice," a soft alto voice answered. "I won't have an ocean separate us. I'll go where you go."

He sighed and switched to French. "We've been over this a million times, Petite Claret. It's not safe for you in Switzerland. Besides, I would feel much better knowing you were with someone who could look after you while I'm gone."

"Who will look after you?" Genevieve snapped. "Don't you think I care what happens to you? You're my husband! I should be with you."

He reached for her with his free arm. "Genevieve, you know that cannot be. What if someone like Hempel comes looking for me in Switzerland? We might not be so lucky next time."

She shrunk back. "I don't care!"

He clenched his jaw. "Don't you care about Lucien or the enfant, even if you don't care about yourself? Do you want them to grow up as orphans? They need their mother."

She buried her face in his leather jacket. "They need you too."

"They need you more, and don't say otherwise. You know I speak the truth."

She gripped his arm. "Damn you. Why do you have to be right?"

He kissed her forehead. "Be brave, chérie. I'll come back to all of you, I promise."

Hogan cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt, kids, but have you made up your minds what you're doing?"

DuBois's gaze lingered on his wife, who nodded. "They'll go."

Hogan glanced at Kinch. "Okay, radio London and make the arrangements."

"Thank you. Colonel." DuBois pulled Genevieve into the light. "I believe some introductions are in order. Everyone, this is my wife, Genevieve."

"It's a pleasure." Hogan extended his hand, frowning when he noticed the bulge under her coat. "Hold it! You didn't say she was expecting!"

He waved the concern away. "Not to worry. She's not due for another two weeks. As painful as it is to admit, our second child will be born English."

Newkirk folded his arms. "Charming."

DuBois grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, mon ami. I meant no offence."

Hogan eyed him suspiciously. "You sure the baby'll wait till they reach England?"

"Absolutely."

The Colonel resumed pacing. "I still don't like it. She'd really be better off in a hospital."

Genevieve brushed back a stray hair. "Hempel knows I'm pregnant. There's a chance he's having the hospitals in Paris and this area report to him whenever a mother checks in. I'm not willing to risk it."

"Don't you have any family you can stay with?"

She shook her head. "They're all in hiding. We haven't spoken to them in years." Her stare was pleading. "You're the only one we can turn to. Please, Colonel, we're desperate."

"What do you want to do, Colonel?" Kinch asked, his hands hovering over his equipment.

Hogan nodded. "Make the call."

Genevieve stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Bless you. I wish there was something we could do for you."

His cheeks flushed slightly. "Forget it. An invitation to the christening is more than enough."

oOo

_Several days later_

"Hurry," DuBois murmured, pulling Genevieve through a tangle of underbrush and tree branches cluttering the path in front of them. "We haven't much time. Colonel Hogan's men are probably waiting at the rendezvous point already, and these woods are crawling with Germans who'd love nothing more than to arrest us a few kilometres outside of Stalag 13."

"Maurice," Genevieve wheezed, clutching her side. "Wait a moment, please. I'm out of breath."

Lucien tugged her right hand. "C'mon, maman, you know what Papa said. It's a race! We have to finish first or he's going to be very unhappy."

DuBois studied his wife as she doubled over. "Lucien, please." He squeezed her shoulder. "Are you feeling alright?"

She glared at him. "Of course. I'm just a little tired. Sleeping in a tunnel that could collapse on you at any moment doesn't exactly encourage a good night's rest."

He wiped his nose. "I couldn't sleep either. Those tunnels clog my nose every time I'm in them, which I suppose is a blessing, considering they smell like wet wool. I don't know how Colonel Hogan's men can stand it."

Genevieve righted herself and breathed deeply to banish the pain radiating from her. "I'm ready."

"Would you like me to carry you? I don't think we have much further to go."

She pushed him away and took a few wobbly steps forward. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll carry my own weight."

Lucien charged after her. "Last one there's a dirty Bosche!"

His mother pursed her lips. "Lucien Emile DuBois! Don't say such things."

He swatted at her. "You and Daddy say it all the time!"

She pinched his ear. "Well, you can say it when you're our age. Until then, I don't want you using language like that."

He stomped his foot. "No fair! I'll be so old by then."

DuBois froze when a twig snapped. "Stop!"

"What is it?" Genevieve whispered.

He whipped around, his pistol aimed at a shaking bush.

"Bloody hell, DuBois," a Cockney voice grumbled. "Leave off. It's only me."

The Frenchman blushed as Newkirk stepped into the moonlight, which glistened off the shoe polish on his cheeks. "Sorry. I thought you were a German."

"Well, I'm not. Now, if you and the missus will follow me. The Guvner's waiting with Carter and LeBeau."

DuBois swept Lucien up in his arms. "Are you coming with us?"

"Na, I just came to make sure you got a right proper send off. Now, c'mon. We're late enough already." With that, the Londoner turned and jogged down a narrow trail.

DuBois scanned the tree line and ushered Genevieve ahead. "You heard him, Petite Claret. Get going."

Genevieve nodded and hurried on. _Zut alors. I__ feel like a slab of meat being pounded by a butcher. What I wouldn't give for a soft warm bed right now._

Finally, after what seemed like miles, Newkirk halted and motioned for her to crouch. Genevieve struggled down and peered over his shoulder, gulping at the trail, which continued down a steep slope to the road below them.

Newkirk removed a flashlight and flashed a message in Morse code to a waiting car. He rose once he received a wave from a short figure and turned to DuBois, who helped his wife up. "Time to go, mate. Good luck."

DuBois started to give him a customary peck on each cheek, but opted for a handshake when the Englishman recoiled. "Godspeed, mon ami. I'll never forget all that you and Papa Bear have done for us."

Genevieve nodded. "Merci."

Newkirk squeezed her hand. "It's our pleasure, madame." He shook Lucien's hand. "Be a good lad and take good care of your mum."

Lucien stared at him, his eyes widening as the bush man retreated into the darkness.

DuBois started for the ledge. "It's quite steep here, chérie. I'll take Lucien down first and come back for you."

"Wait!" Genevieve hissed as her husband and son disappeared. "Maurice!" She grabbed a tree branch, which swayed under the additional weight, and leaned over, trying not to cry out as her family descended. _How can you take chances like this, night after night? I'd go even more mad than I am already if I were you. You were right, this is one adventure __where I can't follow you._

The pain in her chest receded, as she exhaled when her husband handed Lucien to the short figure, then scrambled back to her.

Her heart stopped when she heard the crackle of rocks sliding and a curse. "Maurice, are you alright?" she called.

"I'm fine, but I need you to climb down. It's too steep for me to reach you."

Her heart resumed pounding as she started down, a wave of dizziness washing over her. "It's such a long way down. What if I slip and break my neck?"

He sighed. "Genevieve, there isn't any other way. Just put one foot in front of the other and trust me."

She reached for another branch and nudged a rock, which slid away. "I can't! I feel faint."

"Come down sideways and don't look down. You'll feel better that way."

"If you say so," Genevieve muttered, obeying.

"That's it, chérie. You're doing great."

"Really?" she asked, grabbing another branch.

"Oui. Now, keep coming nice and steady. You don't have much further to go."

Genevieve smiled, grasping a root to steady herself. The root jerked out of the dirt as her feet slid out from under her. Horror flooded her senses as she tumbled away. _Oh, Mon Dieu._

Pain shot through her lower back as her knees slammed into the ground, sending her rolling.

"Genevieve!" DuBois cried, catching her as she plunged off the path. "Genevieve, speak to me!"

Her eyes watered as she stifled a scream. "I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth. _Even though I feel like a truck's hit me._

He scooped her legs up and hurried to the road. "Hang on. I'll have you in the car in a minute."

"What happened?" Hogan whispered, hurrying to open the passenger door for them.

"She slipped and fell."

"I'm fine," Genevieve murmured. "I just need to rest."

Maurice placed her in the backseat and sat next to her, stroking her forehead. "Of course. You had a bad scare."

Hogan banged on the driver's window. "Okay, Carter, get going. The gang's all here."

"Right sir," he replied, putting the car in gear once Hogan joined the DuBois's.

"Alright, you two," Hogan said. "You remember your recognition code?"

DuBois nodded. "Our contact will ask us when it last rained in Berlin. We reply that we don't know, but it's been raining in Dresden for days."

Genevieve moaned, a spasm of pain tearing through her lower body.

Hogan continued, unaware of his passenger's distress. "Perfect. The contact will give you more instructions once you get to the safe house. They'll make sure Genevieve and Lucien rendezvous with the sub in time. They'll also help you get to Switzerland, DuBois."

He smiled. "No need, Colonel. Like I told you, I've already made my travel arrangements."

Genevieve leaned against the seat, moaning louder.

Her husband stared at her, alarm spreading across his face. "Chérie, what is it?"

"Maurice," she panted. "I think the baby's coming."

Hogan frowned. "What?"

DuBois ignored him. "Are you sure?"

"Oui. It feels like a demon's tearing my insides apart."

"A baby?" LeBeau squealed from the front passenger seat. "You can't have a baby in here!"

Genevieve let out a sharper groan.

He covered his eyes. "Oh, sacre chats!"

"LeBeau!" Hogan barked. "Don't faint, and that's an order! I can't have you falling to pieces on me now." He shook his head. "DuBois, you told me she wasn't due for awhile yet!"

"The fall," Genevieve gasped. "Must've started my labour early."

Hogan closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "Where's Wilson when you need him?"

Carter glanced in the rearview mirror. "Pardon me, Colonel, but you don't need Wilson."

He rubbed his temples. "What?"

"I said you don't need Wilson. You've got me."

Hogan narrowed his eyes. "You know how to deliver a baby?"

Carter looked back at the road. "Not exactly. I used to help my dad deliver calves on the farm all the time."

DuBois scowled. "With all due respect, my wife is not a cow!"

The sergeant's cheeks flushed pink. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we're mammals too, so the process is pretty much the same. Instead of checking to see if you have the right order of hooves and noses, you…" His face turned a dark red. "Well, uh, you know."

"Carter!" Hogan snapped. "This is no time to be modest! If you know what to do, then get back here and do it."

"Well, Colonel, we really ought to find a doctor. I mean, I might be able to help, but I've never delivered a human baby before!"

Lucien wailed from LeBeau's lap as his mother cried out. "No! Mama's dying!"

"Lucien, please be quiet!" DuBois snarled.

Genevieve let out another yell, clutching her stomach. LeBeau and Lucien shouted with her. "The pain is getting worse. We don't have much time."

Hogan leaned toward Carter. "Stop the car and let LeBeau drive. I want you back here with Madame DuBois in case she needs you."

Carter slowed and pulled off the road. "Gosh, I hope not. Klink's going to be pretty mad if we mess up his car."

LeBeau clutched his mouth, fighting dry heaves. He slid over to the driver's seat, forcing his gaze to remain straight ahead while Carter got out.

Lucien sniffled, his hands over his ears. Hogan lifted the boy into his lap when he sat down in the front seat. "C'mon, son. Everything's going to be fine, no matter what you hear." He turned to LeBeau. "Step on it. We've got to find a phone fast."

LeBeau had the car in motion again before his commander finished his sentence. "All I can see is farmland. There must be somewhere we can go for help."

Carter pointed out the window. "I think there's a house on the other side of this hill. Maybe they have a phone we could use."

Genevieve's head rolled from side to side. "Maurice..."

DuBois resumed stroking her forehead. "Don't worry, cherie."

Carter patted her hand. "We'll get you out of here in a jiffy. Right, Colonel?"

Hogan nodded, hoping doubt didn't creep into his voice. "Right." _Boy, my officer training never covered anything like this._

LeBeau accelerated over the hill, spotting the faint outline of a house in the moonlight. "I see it." He slammed on his brakes and turned into the driveway, swearing as a barking dog bolted from the house. "Get out the way, you stupid mutt! Don't make me run you over."

The porch light flipped on as the car stopped outside the house. A squat farmer in a plaid jacket and pajamas burst through the front door. "What is this?" he barked. "Who are you? Do you know how late it is? You woke me from a dead sleep."

Hogan got out of the car. "Sorry to bother you, sir. We have a woman here who's about to give birth. We need to use your phone to call a doctor."

The dark-haired man gasped when he saw the American's blackened face. "Good Lord, you're saboteurs!" He started to shut the door. "I must call the Gestapo."

DuBois stepped out and leveled his gun. "Do that and you die."

"DuBois!" Hogan hissed. "Have you lost your mind?"

His gaze never left the farmer, who raised his hands. "No, I'm tired of my family being hunted. Go inside and call the doctor before I decide to shoot this German filth anyway."

Hogan lowered DuBois's arm. "Let me handle this my way." He looked back at the farmer. "Look, pal, we're not going to hurt you. We just need the phone."

DuBois shrugged Hogan off. "You don't understand. It's not your wife in the car!" He raised the gun. "Let him use the phone and I'll let you live."

The farmer stared DuBois down. "How do I know you're telling the truth? You could kill me even if I cooperate."

"Maurice, stop acting like a lunatic and put the gun down," Genevieve commanded as Carter lifted her out of the car. DuBois glanced back at her as he complied, unsure if he was more surprised by her words or sharp tongue.

"Please, sir, look at me," Genevieve continued. "Do I seem like a trap?"

He studied her for a long moment, his lips quivered as she stifled a cry. "I suppose not. But I should really call the Gestapo. I could get in big trouble if I don't and someone finds out I've harbored criminals."

"Do you have a wife?"

He nodded. "I did. She died in childbirth."

She winced at a fresh wave of pain. "Then you know how much it hurts to lose a loved one that way. If you don't help us, you'll sign my death warrant and my child's. You're not a killer; I can see it in your eyes. Please, don't make my husband suffer the way you did."

He considered his options then sighed. "I'll call the doctor. He can get here in a few minutes. He only lives a few kilometers away."

DuBois climbed up the front steps. "I'll go with you. Be warned, I'm fluent in German, so don't try anything foolish."

He shook his head. "I won't betray you."

"C'mon ma'am, you heard him. The doctor's on his way," Carter said, kicking the car door shut. "LeBeau, stay here with Lucien and let us know when the doctor gets here."

LeBeau nodded as the boy buried his face in his shoulder. "Try to get some sleep, little one. By the time you wake up, you'll be a big brother."

oOo

Hogan rolled his eyes as DuBois paced past the guest bedroom door. "Will you sit down, Dad? You look like you're going to fall down any second."

The Frenchman clutched the wall as his wife howled. "Oh God, it sounds like she's dying in there. How do women do this time after time?"

"Women are stronger than men, I think," the farmer murmured, gripping the arms of his chair. "My Irmgard bore me five sons. Screamed so hard the doctors had to sedate her. She never regretted our children once. Then our sixth child killed her."

Hogan stood and led DuBois to the sofa. "There isn't much you can do until the doctor and Carter are finished."

DuBois buried his face in his hands as Genevieve screamed. "I've killed her. God forgive me, I've killed her."

Hogan awkwardly patted the man's back until a faint cry reached their ears.

"Could it be?" DuBois whispered.

The doctor opened the door. "Herr DuBois?"

He rose. "Yes?" 

He wiped sweat from his thick brow. "Congratulations, you're the father of a strong baby girl. Mother and daughter are doing just fine. You can see them if you like."

"Better get your cigars out, DuBois," Carter said, entering the living room with a small bundle in his arms. "Here she is."

DuBois beamed as he took the baby, gasping as her large navy eyes looked up at him. "She's incredible. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Ahem," a tired voice croaked from the bedroom. "What about me?"

He hurried to his sweaty, shivering wife. "Oh, Genevieve, chérie."

"I'm sorry she's born a German. I really wish she'd waited till we reached England."

He kissed her gently. "It doesn't matter. She may be German by birth, but her blood flows French."

Genevieve snuggled against him. "I want to name her Antoinette Andre DuBois; her middle name for the man who helped bring her into the world."

Carter's complexion reddened. "Awh, shucks, ma'am, all I did was boil some water. The doctor did all the tough stuff."

DuBois stroked his daughter's chin. "I think it's a lovely name."

Hogan clapped an arm around Carter's shoulder. "Congratulations, old man. You did good."

Carter grinned. "I'm just glad we got her here in time. To tell you the truth, I wasn't keen on having to clean up Klink's staff car."

oOo

Six month later

Has it really been half a year already? Genevieve thought, watching the hay around her bow in the wind. _It seems like it only happened last night._

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as a wind gust sent a damp chill through her bones. _This country's colder than my ancestor's graves. I hope Maurice is warmer in Switzerland than I am in England._

"Mrs. DuBois!" She turned toward the stooped Mrs. Newkirk, who hollered from the worn front porch. "Post's here. You've got a letter from Switzerland."

Genevieve's heart leapt as she bounded through the field. "Really?"

Mrs. Newkirk laughed. "Thought that might make you happy as Larry."

Genevieve frowned. "Who's Larry?"

Her host shook her head and handed her an envelope. "Never mind dear. It's just an expression Mr. Newkirk picked up when he was sailing 'round Australia as a lad."

Genevieve's hands trembled as she tore the envelope and unfolded the yellow paper inside.

_Dear Petite Claret,_

_This is probably the last you'll hear from me until the end of the war. I want you to know I've arrived safely and expect to resume my business any day now. _

_I can't help thinking about our last night and how brief our time has been together since __we married three years ago. I'm sorry, __chérie_, _I know this isn't exactly what either one of us had in mind when we exchanged vows, but the truth is I'd do it all over again without thinking twice. You're the bravest, most beautiful woman I've ever known and the best partner a man could ask for. I'll never be able to thank the powers that be enough for __making you my wife. You and our children make my life worthwhile._

_Kiss Antoinette for me and tell Lucien to be good. I'm proud of them, as I am of you._

_Be strong, Petite Claret. Say a prayer for me as I do you, and try not to worry. I'll be counting the days until we're together again, for always._

_Love,_

_Maurice_

Genevieve wiped a tear from her eye. _I'll be counting too, darling. Come back to me soon._

AN: I apologize to any women who've experienced childbirth if they find my description of the experience inaccurate or offensive. Never having given birth myself, I had to base my descriptions of symptoms, triggers, etc. on research, which wasn't as definitive as I hoped it would be.

Also, I apologize for any historical errors.


End file.
